Today marks 25 years since the tragic attacks of September 11, 2001.
Today, we remember the nearly 3,000 people whose lives were taken, the families who lost loved ones, the first responders who ran towards danger, and the countless people whose lives were forever changed by that day. We also remember the millions of people around the world whose lives were destroyed by the countless invasions, wars, policies, and bombs that epitomized the so-called Global War on Terror. Twenty-five years later, their loss is still deeply felt.
In the days and months after the attacks, Muslim, Sikh, Arab, and South Asian Americans both here and abroad faced suspicion, discrimination, harassment, and even violence because of who they were, or who others thought they were. Those harms did not end when the immediate aftermath faded from the headlines. Americans like Balbir Singh Sodhi were forced to pay a price for something that they had nothing to do with. We are still seeing echoes of that legacy.
As anti-Muslim rhetoric intensifies this election cycle, our communities are once again being used as political targets. From the increasing membership and impact of the Sharia Free America Caucus, to our Muslim American candidates treated as outsiders, our identity and civic participation are viewed as less than and met with extreme vitriol.
The Surveillance State is Here to Stay
Communities have been subjected to surveillance practices so pervasive that it was used as a blueprint by China against their Uyghur and other Muslim minorities, inspired by the GWoT. Strategies including entrapment, policies like the Patriot Act, and the use of agencies including the NSA, Postal Service, and the newly created DHS to spy on people without their consent were all utilized to create a security state that normalized institutionalized discrimination and racism as well as anti-Muslim bigotry.
Since then, the surveillance state has grown to what we see today. Some members of Congress have attempted to chip away at this behemoth, such as Senator Gary Peters, who released a report in 2023 identifying how airport screening practices expanded the terror watchlist, leading to the unjust targeting of Arab, Muslim and South Asian Americans and introduced the Enhanced Oversight and Accountability in Screening Act, requiring DHS to reform the redress process and improve the experience of Americans who believe they have been wrongly subjected to additional and unjustified scrutiny.
Moreover, a deliberate part of the expansion of the surveillance state focuses on First Amendment violations and in particular, our freedom of speech and expression. Attacks against universities and students for protesting the genocide against Palestinians and calling for divestments from weapons manufacturers or censoring Americans’ speech in general have proliferated on the local, state, and national stage.
A Familiar Political Playbook
One of the lasting consequences of 9/11 was how easily fear of Muslims could be turned into political currency. That playbook never fully went away, and heading into the 2026 midterms, we are watching Republicans draw from it again.
The examples are becoming difficult to dismiss as isolated incidents. In Michigan, Vice President JD Vance called Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed “very, very evil”, while Republican attacks have increasingly framed his candidacy as evidence of a broader threat from Muslim political participation. Further in Alabama, Sen. Tommy Tuberville warned voters about “radical Islam” during his campaign for governor and in Texas, Gov. Greg Abbott has focused on alleged “sharia courts” and opposes Muslim religious accommodations.
These are different races in different parts of the country, but the political strategy is strikingly similar. Rather than merely disagreeing with Muslim candidates, organizations, or communities on policy, the rhetoric draws on longstanding fears about Islam to make Muslims themselves part of the election debate.
Emgage Action CEO Mohamed Gula addressed this in a recent USA Today interview, describing an effort to create a dichotomy between what it means to be American and to be Muslim. We see that divide being manufactured when a candidate like El-Sayed is repeatedly pushed to explain his religion rather than his policy agenda. There are plenty of reasons voters may support or oppose his candidacy, but being Muslim should not become shorthand for what he believes or how he would govern.
The Politics of Fear
The timing is worth paying attention to. Voters are heading into November concerned about issues like the cost of living and the state of democracy; yet Muslims, who make up roughly 1.6% of the U.S. population, are increasingly finding themselves at the center of campaign rhetoric across the country.
Fear can be politically useful precisely because it can be weaponized to change the conversation. At a time when voters are asking difficult questions about the economy, health care and foreign policy, anti-Muslim rhetoric can redirect that attention toward something more visceral. Terms like “sharia,” “Islamist,” “terrorist” and “infiltration” feed into fears and stereotypes about Muslims that have been reinforced in American politics since 9/11.
Security concerns, allegations of extremism or questions about a candidate’s conduct can be evaluated on their own facts, but when Muslim identity repeatedly surfaces across otherwise unrelated campaigns, they begin to function as something broader: a way of turning fear of Muslims into an electoral message. The target is no longer a specific action or policy, but the idea that Muslim political and civic presence itself is something voters should view with suspicion.
Beyond the Ballot Box
The impact of this rhetoric does not necessarily end with an election. When the same ideas gain traction on the campaign trail, they can also find their way into the institutions and policies that shape people's lives. We are already seeing this through congressional caucuses, proposed legislation and government scrutiny of Muslim religious practices. The years after 9/11 showed just how consequential that shift from rhetoric to government action can be for Muslim communities.
But for Muslim Americans, there is another important difference between then and now: our political infrastructure and participation have grown considerably. Our communities are organizing in response to this rhetoric, engaging on the issues affecting us, holding candidates accountable and continuing to build the political power necessary to respond when Muslims are once again made into an election issue.
We shouldn't allow today's politics to erase the human tragedy of September 11th or the very real harms that followed nor should we forget the lessons of what came after. Despite that heavy loss, so many have used it as an excuse to harm, discriminate, and oppress others. That grief cannot become an excuse for collective blame, that fear cannot justify discrimination, and that no community should have to prove its belonging to its own country.
If the years since 9/11 have shown us how easily fear of Muslims can be exploited for political gain, they have also shown us the power of a community that refuses to let that fear define its place in American political life.
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